


It's The Black Death, And It's Coming For You

by theprincesjester



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: I'm good, M/M, Modern AU, and also i had just. started thinking about it, and it worked, he'd be great, i might actually do more with this au but i'm not sure, if only he could be Our teacher, in which geralt and ciri both get the flu, jaskier is a music teacher, none at all, partially because of convenience, there's no bitterness here, yennefer is a nurse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincesjester/pseuds/theprincesjester
Summary: He jokingly calls it the plague. He knows it’s not really such a thing, mind you, but with the way it starts and then rampages the house, it certainly feels like it.Jaskier is left the last man standing in his own home, the only one not yet infected with the so-called “plague”, and he wears this with pride.It’s just that the mask he’s taken to wearing makes him look a bit ridiculous, almost like a vaguely manic, close to crazed, hyperactive doctor, as he runs about the house spraying the lemon-scented Lysol, with wipes to match.And Geralt, who usually doesn’t get sick, almost ever, is not a fan of this in any way, shape, or form.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 18
Kudos: 246





	It's The Black Death, And It's Coming For You

**Author's Note:**

> Partially based off of real events.

He jokingly calls it the plague. He knows it’s not really such a thing, mind you, but with the way it starts and then rampages the house, it certainly feels like it. 

Jaskier is left the last man standing in his own home, the only one not yet infected with the so-called “plague”, and he wears this with pride. 

It’s just that the mask he’s taken to wearing makes him look a bit ridiculous, almost like a vaguely manic, close to crazed, hyperactive doctor, as he runs about the house spraying the lemon-scented Lysol, with wipes to match. 

And Geralt, who usually doesn’t get sick, almost ever, is not a fan of this in any way, shape, or form. 

“I am very torn between making you lay down and cuddling you, and making you stay quarantined,” Jaskier tells him, adjusting his mask and wiping the coffee table down. 

“Hm.” he doesn’t give a full response, letting that tell enough. Jaskier sighs. 

“Either way, though, I have to take Ciri to school,” he stands, putting the wipes on the table and removing his mask. He leans down to press his lips to Geralt’s forehead, almost wincing at how hot it feels, then turns to go away. “I’ll be right back. I’ll get you some ice and some more medicine. Do you want any blankets?” 

Geralt shrugs, and Jaskier nods. He returns with two blankets, an ice pack (or two), some medicine, and a bottle of Gatorade, smiling at Geralt’s obvious distaste to the drink. 

“C’mon, it’s not that bad, and you need fluids,” Jaskier sets the medicine and the bottle on the coffee table, handing Geralt the blankets and the ice. 

“Hm.” Geralt responds with, again, and Jaskier frowns. 

“I’ll see you later. No dying,” Jaskier points at Geralt before going to the front door. “Ciri! C’mon, it’s time to go!” he shouts. 

She comes running, hesitating in the doorway of the living room. Geralt waves her on, not wanting to possibly get her sick, as well, and she almost slides into Jaskier. 

He catches her before she does, smiling at her. 

“Do you think he can take care of himself?” he asks, shrugging on his jacket and reaching for his bag. She shrugs. 

“Maybe. Who knows if he knows how to, though,” she almost snickers, and Jaskier nods. 

“I agree.” he nods with a smile, ruffling her hair. 

And with that, the two left the house. 

\----

Jaskier was happy where he was, as a music teacher. He enjoyed it: he got to show other people how to do something that brought him a lot of joy, and he got to do things with it on the side. 

He found that such a joy was cut short upon being called up to the office because his adopted daughter had a fever of “too fucking high to be healthy”, as he called it upon hearing what it was, and had to rush her home. 

It’s not that he minded taking care of her, or having to leave work because of her, it was more that he didn’t like when she was unwell. 

Jaskier smiled at the sight of father and daughter huddled together on the couch, the mask he was wearing hiding most of his face. 

“Dinner?” Jaskier held up a can of soup, and Ciri groaned, hiding her face in Geralt’s arm. 

_Fevers never did anyone any good_ , Jaskier thought. 

Geralt shrugged. “I’m fine with it,” 

Jaskier nodded, sighing. “Okay. I’ll make some soup, you can go take a cold bath, if you want, Ciri,” 

She shrugged, burrowing closer to her dad, who started to reach around for another blanket, almost growling when his searches came up fruitless. 

“And I can get another blanket,” he added, sliding back to the kitchen to put the can of soup back on the counter. He then slid to the hall closet, grabbing a couple more blankets and silently thanking his socks for providing the method of transport he preferred. 

He slid his way back to the living room, stopping in front of Geralt and his daughter, neither of which had moved since he had left (which wasn’t too terribly surprising, seeing as he hadn’t been gone that long), and he held out the blankets. Geralt took them with a nod and a brief smile, wrapping one around Ciri. 

“I’ll be back, you can keep those here and if you need them you can just…” Jaskier let himself trail off as Geralt nodded. He understood. 

Jaskier slid back to the kitchen, making the soup and carefully walking back out with the two bowls. “For two of my favorite people,” he said as he put them on the table. 

“You said we were your two favorite people last night,” Geralt muttered. Jaskier smiled, something Geralt still couldn’t see through the mask. 

“Well, yeah. You are. In this context, they both feel pretty similar,” 

Geralt shrugged, too tired to put up too much of a fight. 

Jaskier sat on the coffee table, watching and keeping the two company as they finished their soup. About halfway through, he started to laugh, trying to stifle it. 

“What?” Geralt eventually asked. Jaskier shrugged. 

“You’ve been infected with the plague,” he stated, as if that explained everything. Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed, Ciri smiling a little at her adopted father’s exaggeration of their condition. 

“See? Kid likes it,” Jaskier’s smile reached his eyes, both Geralt and Ciri almost able to tell exactly what his face looked like under the mask. He started to sing. “What’s that comin’ up the Silk Road, outta China, the Black Death, Black Death, woo! What's that creeping round your p--” 

Geralt cut him off. “Are you sure you want to finish that with the child in the room?” Jaskier shrugged. 

“Fine, fine. Point taken.” he resumed his song, “The Black Death, it’s gonna get ya, it’s the Black Death, it’s gonna hit ya with those blisters, oozing like syrup… that pesty little pestilence is killing half of Europe, it’s the Black Death, and it’s comin’ for you,” 

Ciri laughed a little at his song, Geralt sighing. 

Jaskier ruffled her hair. “See, at least someone appreciates my musical abilities,” 

“I don’t know if I would call them abilities.” there was little venom behind his words, almost joking. Jaskier shrugged again. 

“You’re right, it’s taken years and years of practice to get here,” 

With that, Jaskier sighed and put his hand to Geralt’s forehead, then removed his hands, kissing his forehead. “You still have a fever,” he remarked, turning to Ciri. He kissed her forehead, too, letting out another sigh when he felt the heat. “That’s it, I’m calling Yennefer to help,” He stood up straight and slid to the kitchen, grabbing his phone and texting her, not leaving any time for Geralt to object. 

**To: Yennefer**

Hey, Ciri and Geralt are both zombies. Help? 

He set the phone down on the counter as he slid around to the fridge to get more drinks for the two designated infected, sliding back and stopping himself when his phone chimed. 

**From: Yennefer**

Jaskier… what? 

**To: Yennefer**

They’ve been infected with the Plague, Yen 

**From: Yennefer**

Jaskier, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, I really, really do, but what the fuck 

**To: Yennefer**

They’re sick, and I’ve done what I can, but. Professional Help? Pretty please? 

**From: Yennefer**

I can be over soon

**To: Yennefer**

Thank you :D!!

And that was how Yennefer came to discover Geralt and Ciri both sick on the couch, Ciri half asleep, and Jaskier standing over them from where he was on a chair, bopping his head to Take On Me and saying something about how he was the last man standing. 

Yennefer leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. 

“Jaskier, can you please, for five seconds--” 

“Are you done yet?” Yennefer interrupted Geralt, pushing herself off of the door frame and smiling a little. Jaskier hesitated before nodding. 

“Yeah. I’d hate for the ‘last man standing’ to have to go to the emergency room because he fell off a chair,” Geralt threw out. Ciri nodded, just barely awake. 

“‘S gotta point,” she gave Jaskier a sleepy smile, and he shrugged. 

“She hath decreed it, and so it shalt be,” and with those words he sat down, moving the chair so he was sitting in front of the two. 

Yennefer stood by him, looking at the two dubbed zombies on the couch. 

“Symptoms?” she asked. Geralt cleared his throat, coughing. 

“Fever. My entire body hurts.” he didn’t quite glare at her. She nodded. 

“So… from what little you told me, and what I can see, I don’t think it’s the bubonic plague.” 

Jaskier nodded. 

“So I’m almost positive that Jaskier was just exaggerating,” 

“Duh,” Jaskier nodded. 

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “It does kinda sound like the flu, though.” 

“And what do you prescribe?” Jaskier’s eyes were almost sparkling with what could only be described as mirth. 

“I’m putting both of you on bed rest, and make sure you’re drinking enough liquids,” 

Geralt nodded, and Jaskier smiled, leaning forward a little. “Hear that? I’m officially your nurse.” 

“I don’t think she said that,” 

“I definitely didn’t say that,” Yennefer confirmed. 

“Too late, I’ve been appointed,” 

“Jaskier, I appreciate your offer--” 

“If anything, I’d be their official nurse,” Yennefer interrupted Geralt again. 

“Hey! I can do it, I’ve been taking care of them,” 

Yennefer gave him a small smile. “I know you can. If you need anything else, you can always call, okay?” 

“Thank you,” Jaskier nodded. “Do you want to stay for dinner? These two haven’t eaten too much, but I’m sure we can find something,” 

Yennefer shrugged. “Sure,” 

Jaskier stood, almost falling forward onto Geralt, but catching himself before he did. He slid off to the kitchen, Yennefer not too far behind. 

The two made dinner, taking into account the two zombies on the couch, making enough so they could eat, too. 

And, really, it was kind of nice. Minus the part where Geralt and Ciri were both sick, sure, but overall… not too bad.


End file.
